The Beating Quota
by porgenthegreploy
Summary: Barney never enjoyed his work as a Metrocop, but always exploited his position in Civil Protection for the good of the Resistance. When a man betrays the Resistance and grows closer to the Citadel, how will Barney take charge of the situation? What will Barney have to do to stop him dead in his tracks, and how will he cope with what he has to do?
1. The Delimma

The Beating Quota

A/N: Rambling author's note incoming, but stick with me here.

This is a working title, yes. However, I feel like it roughly gets the job done and ties everything back to a rough topic. On the other hand, it's possible that the entirety of this writing diverged from the original idea I had that is now long gone from my brain.

The idea for this story came from another fan-fiction I had read implying that Barney was in Civil Protection for literally years. Why is Barney working in the CP? What situations could he encounter in his time that could strain his relations with both the Overwatch and the Resistance? What personal boundaries may he have to cross to get the job done?

Originally meant to be a one-shot, but is split into three definite parts (with some sort of wrap-up chapter/epilogue) with more possibly to follow. Please feel free to review and tell me everything I got wrong so I know what to do in the future. It's my first time really writing HL2, and writing a character into a rough situation, so really lay it on. I'll appreciate it. Enjoy.

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><p>Barney was never going to be a Metrocop who enjoyed meeting, let alone exceeding, their beating quota. It was never going to be something he enjoyed, only something he had to do. He didn't enjoy the sound of bones breaking, the sound of electric batons smacking down resisting limbs, the sound of young men crying for their mothers, young women crying for their husbands. There was almost nothing for him to get out of this. Barney would avoid it at all costs, but it is an unfortunate job that all Civil Protection units must undertake.<p>

The only reason beating quotas exist, Barney hypothesized, is that they want to weed out the weak units from the strong, especially human volunteers. He knew a guy who joined the CP, but not for any malicious reason, the guy was just trying to get more food rations for his family. It was a tragic situation, having to hurt people to help others. Barney watched as the man became more lenient; soon instead of beatings he gave strongly worded warnings in a last attempt to stay in some sort of good light.

One day, Barney was on duty at the City 17 processing station, and saw the man brought in plain clothes to the checkpoint. The Metrocops that escorted him there then beat the man into an unresponsive state, and unceremoniously hooked him into a pod in the nearby razor train, and sent him off to Nova Prospekt with the rest of the cargo.

The only thing that kept Barney going was his absolute need to get info on Combine movements within City 17 and its outlying districts. Eli and the rest of the Resistance leaders had soldiers and refugees slowly but steadily creeping out of the city either to Black Mesa East or out to White Forest. Hell, anywhere that wasn't under Combine control. He needed to know anything and everything he could, even hearsay among the grunts. Pretty much any second hand idea was something he had to report to the higher-ups, because it might be the info that could save some lives.

Barney hated the beatings, but since it was something he had to do, he abused this power to further either his own agenda, or that of the Resistance. It usually had to do with people who were in the way of the Resistance. Sometimes people just needed a simple push in the right direction, and they would quickly warm up to the cause. Now, Barney never ever went hard on these people if he knew he could get them on their side. A couple of big bruises on the back, maybe a broken finger or two. Give them a reason to resent the Overwatch. He never took it too far. At least, he used to never take it too far.

It was brought to the attention of the Resistance that a man named Bryan Jennings had betrayed the cause. No one knew why, but he ended up killing five of the men he was stationed with along the canal heading out of City 17, and disappeared. This was a pretty big deal at the time; nothing like this had happened before, and no one was sure how to handle it. How did they tell the dead's families? How do they make sure it doesn't happen again? How do they make sure it doesn't get any worse?

Perhaps the worst thing about Jennings doing what he did, and the Resistance having to do something about it, was his family. He had a wife and a young daughter, barely fourteen. One of the youngest people alive around City 17, barely getting conceived before the suppression field was set up. How will they be told about what their husband or dad? …what if they knew about it? What if they were in on it? It was fortunate enough, people supposed, that they found his family and one: discovered that they had no idea what he had done, and two: relocated them to White Forest to be kept under a pretty close eye.

Could he have been brainwashed? Yes. Could something in his head just flicked off, or on? Sure. Could he or his family have been threatened? The possibility was there. Did it matter who he was or what he did in the past? No. The Resistance issued an All-Points Bulletin from the City 17 railways all the way down Highway 17 to New Little Odessa, to be on the lookout for Bryan Jennings, and to shoot to kill.

Barney argued that the man obviously wouldn't be making his way out of the city. He'd be working his way in to the Citadel to talk to Breen, or a Combine Advisor. This was the worst thing that could happen, so he decided it was time to put his position to good use, and find this man before any more harm could be done.


	2. The Interrogation

The Beating Quota

"Respond, isolate, inquire."

A/N: I hope that if you've read the first chapter and enjoyed it, you'll do the same with this one. It's got a bit more meat on its bones, but this may be the only chapter as such.

As I continue to edit and add content to this story, I'm quickly discovering this isn't going to be short at all. At least, a couple of chapters will be disproportionately large with smaller chapters trailing towards the end. However, I'm not going to pretend like I have a ton of content lined up so I'm knocking the weekly post in half to twice a week, just to sort of push this through.

Once again, I hope you enjoy, and please feel free to let me know what you think.

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><p>The problem Barney faced was that he had no idea where Bryan Jennings was. He expected him to make his way back through the same general path that the Underground Railroad ran; barely anyone had a feel for the wild. Barney guessed he'd work his way back into City 17 through Station 12, and then work his way towards the Citadel. He managed to find a map of the city, and marked out a 4 block wide, half-mile long area between the Main Station and the skyscraper, guessing (and hoping) he would find Jennings somewhere in here. Was it a large area? Yes, but it was barely restricted; no walls, no blockades, not infested with headcrabs. The path of least resistance.<p>

For days, he went with his squad (and others that could use the help) on raids. One building after the other Barney sought the man but to no avail. It seemed useless. Was Bryan even inside City 17? Or had he already reached the Citadel? The thought of this alone sent shivers down Barney's spine inside that hot suit. He decided he couldn't stop looking until either Bryan was found, or the Combine launched an assault on the Resistance.

Barney went on his 23rd raid with decreasing confidence. There were over 100 residential buildings to go through yet, and this was the second raid to take place in this building. He would have skipped out, but it was made mandatory involvement by the sector Overseer. Then again, what else could he do to find Bryan Jennings? Maybe he'd find something out from the detainees.

Assembled with the 20 other units outside, he waited for the Overwatch Voice to announce the raid. _"Attention please. Residential block i-4, 38 is now under inspection. All citizens in local residential block, assume your inspection positions."_ after which they stormed in and established their presence on all floors. When the building was deemed secure to sweep, Barney and five others went through suite after suite, looking for anything and anyone under violation of civil law and code. (Then again, not everything and everyone were necessarily safe.) Unsurprisingly, they nabbed quite a few. Must be why they wanted to raid this place again.

Eventually the sweeping party made their way to Suite 2-F. As was to be expected, the door was unlocked, but not open. Barney barged in first, immediately going over to the bedroom. Opening that door, he saw (as was to be expected) the lone resident facing the wall, hands on the wall above them. "Turn around, hands above your head," Barney's voice garbled through his mask, pistol aimed for a lethal shot.

The man turned around slowly. As he fully faced Barney, Barney almost instantly recognized him. Bryan Jennings. He angrily lashed out with his stun baton, knocking Bryan unconscious. He stood for a moment over him, inspecting his face. Barney had to be sure, double sure. Satisfied he had the right person, he pulled Bryan out into the hallway before continuing to assist the others. Eventually the building was declared "clear." The Civil Protection units moved out with the detained residents towards headquarters for processing.

Processing was a fancy word for not processing the detainee, and skipping right to interrogations, which was better defined as beatings. Five "interrogation" rooms were available for use, and so the citizens were taken in one after the other as they were unoccupied. For many, it was an unavoidable show of watching their friends or family enter and come out in a completely different state. Some of them were only shaken up. Others left with a limp or caressing their bruised stomachs. A few didn't leave the "interrogation" rooms alive. They were taken out in black unmarked bags and sent down an unmarked chute to an unknown destination. Furnace? Maybe. Maybe they were ground into pulp and fed to Stalkers or Advisors. Barney didn't give it much thought.

It wasn't long before Barney pushed Bryan into a room, and locked the door behind them. It was more bleak, bland, and stark than the room he often manned at the rail station. A single restrictive chair was bolted to the ground, stained with the gore of citizens before him that denied the will of the Combine. A large panel with an accompanying monitor stood out against the far wall, and was flanked by two cameras, each one blinking red. Against another wall was a grey desk, upon which lay various medical instruments, obviously no longer meant to aid the bodies they were used upon.

Barney watched the man take his place in the chair, and he quickly strode up to him to put on the restraints. He was surprised that the turncoat had nothing to say, but that didn't matter. He went over to the console, and shut down the cameras. Barney checked to see that the door slot was closed, and then turned to the Bryan. No one was watching. The soundproof walls ensured no one was listening. To be safe, Barney pressed some buttons on the panel on his wrist, and listened to the radio static in his mask die down. He no longer received broadcasting, and no longer transmitted.

For all intents and purposes, they were alone.

The two stared each other down for the longest time. Neither spoke, neither moved. Apathetic eye contact (at least, as much as you could have with a mask between the two) conquered their interactions for a good ten minutes, until Bryan finally spoke up. "What am I in for?"

Barney slowly and deliberately took off his mask, savoring his captive's reaction as he recognized who stood before him. His mask now off, he could practically shoot daggers into the man that threatened the entire Resistance. "You know exactly what you're in for." Bryan would have tried to speak against him if he hadn't been hit across his face.

"How dare you?" Barney asked of the punch-drunk man. "How DARE you!" Barney punched him again when he started to speak. "You decided to kill five people. Five good-hearted, honest, hard-working people who do nothing but help others. And you left behind your family when you decided to pull the trigger. What in God's name do you think you'd get out of this? What the hell do you think you'll accomplish?" He listened to the man gurgle, as if to explain himself. Blood had probably pooled up in the back of his throat, but Barney didn't bother to do anything about it.

"It doesn't matter, man," he said, squatting down to the traitor's level. "Think you'd get some kind of special treatment for it? For divulging vital information from the Resistance? No. Not if I can do anything about it."

Barney stood up and walked over to the table, where the re-purposed medical instruments were placed. "You are one of the biggest threats to the Resistance we've ever seen, outside of Breen and the Combine forces. An intelligence breach is as serious as an assault on any important position we have." He paused for a moment to examine a scalpel, rubbing the edge with his gloved thumb. "Once, you were helpful. You were GREAT for us, a great asset for the cause. Now, we have no trust in you. The safest bet we can take is that you were on your way to give up all you know, so we have to act accordingly. Don't worry about Julie and Eliza, though, we've taken care of them." He listened as Bryan slurred angrily at the mention of his wife and daughter. The scalpel was placed back on the table, and his hand found the hammer.

Barney paused for a moment. He just realized he had no directions from anyone from the Resistance as to what he should do. Should Barney just kill Jennings? Should he just beat him, break his jaw or something? He knew he had to do something, but to what extent? Barney had no compass but his own, and had to figure out how to best align it with what the Resistance would want, what Eli, what Kleiner, or Magnusson would want. However, at the same time Barney was just so angry and upset at the man before him that he really didn't care. Reaffirming his grip on the tool, he turned back to Bryan. His jean coveralls were now damp with blood, as he had been coughing it out.

"First things first, we're going to make sure no one's death will be on your hands again." The hammer fell hard on Bryan's right hand, eliciting a gurgling cry. Blood dripped from his mouth as he screamed in pain, and more pooled from the impact on his hand. Barney, unsatisfied with the damage, swung down again. He saw the broken bones poke out and resist the skin. There was another pause as he allowed the man to scream and squirm in his seat. Bryan gritted his crimson-stained teeth and stiffened his arm, as if it would send away the pain.

"It could have been different, but you leave me no choice. This is your fault. No half measures." Barney nearly cringed as he brought the hammer down on his left hand, harder than the right. It almost looked like a pulp as the tendons, bones, and muscle mingled into a single mass. Barney knew his hands were going to be crippled for life. Probably permanently disfigured or amputated in the near future. An unfortunate consequence.

He watched silently as the man before him struggled in his seat, elbows locked, hands limp. His hysterical sobs seemed to echo in the small room. Barney almost felt sorry for him, for what he's done. But he knew there was no other way. Bryan was already growing closer and closer to the authorities, and he had to stop him dead in his tracks. He had to make sure there was no way that man could do anything else. There had to be no way the Combine could know anything about the Resistance.

Barney set the hammer down, for now. It was at this point that he was faced with two options: prevent Bryan from being to give away any info he has, or purposefully kill him. Barney knew he had to pay for what he did. There was no escaping that. Really, Barney would probably just end up prolonging the inevitable, because if an undercover Resistance member found him, he's as good as dead, no question about it. Which sin would ultimately be the greater? He pondered the possibilities in his head, and turned to the man as his cries died down. "I am going to make sure you can't say anything to anyone. And even if you found a way to even hint at something, I'm going to make sure you don't remember a thing."

"Barney, you don't have to do this," Bryan groaned. His body was strained as the nerves in his hands continued to gnaw at him. "I'm sorry, Barney, I'm so sorry, just please don't, please-" he pleaded but Barney cut him off.

"I DON'T HAVE TO DO THIS?!" Barney yelled at him. "YES! I DO!" He was indignant at the notion that the man had paid his dues. "Do you know what you did? You killed five people and abandoned your post! You are by all means a traitor to the Resistance! A TRAITOR! And what the fuck did you think you would do when you got here, when you got to the Citadel, huh? Tell them about Black Mesa East, tell them about White Forest? Tell them about the canal and every single outpost we have stretching down the coast? Fuck you!" Angrily, he grasped the man's left hand, squeezing hard. Ignoring the renewed screams of agony, he continued.

"I REFUSE to allow anyone else to die. Innocent people! These people have worked their asses off and died ever since the Seven Hour War to earn humanity's freedom back, and you spit in their faces, you spit on their graves. For twenty years, YEARS!" he squeezes again, feeling the hand crumple into itself as the muscle and bone forced itself out of the circular wound. "For TWENTY YEARS I have worked for this cause. For twenty years I and countless others have bled for this cause, and you dare try to topple it? No."

Barney let go of the crushed hand and stepped back. He knew the climax of their encounter approached. Barney knew "You are considered to be an enemy, and I will treat you as such. Anything that happens from here on, I will not regret. I will lose no sleep over you. And no one will—"

"Barney, please!" Bryan Jennings begged. "It wasn't my fault! I didn't mean for this to happen! I didn't know—"

He didn't give a shit what Bryan had to say. Barney shut the man up with a hard hit from his stun baton. In his anger, Barney had actually hit him square in the mouth. Looking closer, he noticed Bryan's eyes tremble and tear up, and noticed the top row of his teeth begin producing more blood. He had managed to break Bryan's palate off of his skull, leaving his teeth and gums to sag down. Barney had to clench his own teeth to quell the phantom feeling.

To be sure that he was unconscious, Barney activated the battery in the stun baton, and hit him (a bit more gently) on the side of his head. He sighed as he saw the man in the chair go limp.

"Julie, Eliza..." he tried to conjure some sort of feel-good support pseudo-prayer, but couldn't find it in him to say anything. Bryan had done wrong by many, but today Barney tested himself with what he did to Bryan. He sighed again, looking at his own hands, covered in the blood of another human being. There was just a certain unbelievable aspect to this whole situation. This actually happened. Not the beating, but the fact that someone had killed (and was possibly prepared and willing to kill again), and had been inching closer and closer to the Combine authority. This kind of thing might make out to be a very serious issue, and if it does, Barney alone can't end it. He hoped it ended with the man in the chair. It had to.

Barney put his mask back on, reactivated the voice masker, and reactivated the radio. Almost immediately, chat came squawking in to him. He reported a stable situation, saying just enough to get the Metropolice outside off his back. Then, he reactivated the cameras. On the monitor, he could see a small section reflecting what one camera saw. Barney hunched over the console, with an unconscious Bryan Jennings behind him dripping blood from three different places onto the floor.

Barney removed the restraints from Bryan, and dipped his head in towards his mouth and nose to listen for breathing. Slowly, but surely the man whistled air through his nose. Alive. Barney wasn't sure whether or not he'd be better off dead, so he decided that whatever happens from this point on, happens. After unlocking the door, Barney unceremoniously dumped him out onto the floor in the hallway. "My shift's over," he said, ignoring radio calls for a medic. He wanted nothing to do with Civil Protection for the rest of the day. He hoped he could keep his own promise and not lose sleep over today's events.


	3. The Meeting

The Beating Quota

A/N: I really hope you've enjoyed the story so far. Hopefully this chapter will also be enjoyable, or at least bearable. This is the third part of the original story I was going to post. As such, I'll probably end up posting the fourth chapter in a week, or perhaps leaving this as a soft conclusion as opposed to a hard conclusion in the next chapter. Feel free to tell me what you think.

Unfortunately, Barney did lose sleep over what he did.

Barney had night terrors every time he tried to sleep. Horrible nightmares where he went through the same motions, the same violent oppression he had dealt with people he knew. Al, Joe, Matt… even Alyx, even Kleiner… Eli, too. Then he was beating Julie. Then he was beating Eliza. And then he was the one in the seat, getting beaten by some Metrocop. Barney could feel his hands get crushed, and feel his own warm blood trickle down his throat. Each morning, he woke up wringing his hands, trying to get the copper taste out of his mouth.

It haunted him. Barney just couldn't shake the fact that what he did was something he had to do, and wasn't something he just felt like doing. He felt de-humanized, as if he were growing closer to the evil he was working to destroy. He knew he almost always took it easy on anyone he interrogated, but he crippled a man, who may even be dead by now. Word around the precinct is that it was the most brutal beating in over half a year.

One day, Barney found himself called in to the office of the Overseer of Metropolice Operations in Sector 17. He knew it had to do with what he had done. As he approached the room, he felt sweat drip down his body, and pool in his gloves, and in the soles of his shoes. He was clueless as to what the Overseer would tell him, but he considered it very likely that it would end up bad.

Maintaining his composure, he entered the office, saluted the Overseer, and stood at attention across from his desk. Barney remained silent and stood firm as his boss laid out every document he may need for this encounter. After a few tense minutes, the Overseer looked up at Barney.

"Unit 137-V, stationed in City 17 sector i-4 under the Civil Protection Overwatch branch," he stated.

"Sir," Barney acknowledged through his voice masker.

"It is my understanding that you handled the interrogation of Bryan Jennings ten days ago."

"Yes sir."

The Overseer paused. Barney could feel the man look him over with a fine tooth comb, and he hated it. Even inside this identical suit and mask, he felt very naked and vulnerable, as if the man before him knew everything about him. At least he couldn't hear his breathing, which was picking up pace.

"Well hopefully you got what you needed out of him. He's invalid, crippled. Mute now, too." Barney swallowed, given some small comfort in the fact that he couldn't divulge their secrets. "He's getting shipped to Nova Prospekt for processing, soon." A lump immediately formed back in his throat. Nova Prospekt was a fate worse than death; Barney felt a pang of remorse for Bryan.

"I called you in today because I've seen and heard of how you've been acting since. It's nothing anyone can quite pinpoint, but you're just different." Barney's heart just continued to drop. He knew nothing good could come from this conversation. Behind the dark reflective lenses on his mask, he scanned the room, looking for his best escape if things came down to getting the hell out of Dodge. His baton could knock out the Overseer, sure, but there's at least twenty soldiers between this room and any way out of the station. For now, he stood with his hands clasped behind his back. Firm, unwavering, stoic.

"Now, don't get me wrong, we've appreciated your work ethic here, but there was definitely something different about Jennings. You've done well with interrogations so far, but Jennings was just on a completely… different level. And that's what's eating you. That's why you're acting this way.

"It says in your file that you've been part of Civil Protection for over 18 months. More than enough time, in my opinion, to get desensitized to normal operations as a human volunteer, but it's clear that what you did set something off in your head. Probably an outlier in the official data, but no matter. I want to make sure that we fix this." Barney tensed up. He knew that groups of… unsatisfactory Civil Protection officers were periodically rounded up for memory replacement, or even worse, trans-humanization.

"I don't want you to worry about anything happening to you, or your position. I know that we re-evaluate officers who face similar situations, but you're one of the best units in the sector." Barney was confused – how was he the best when he was working against them? "You get here, you do what you're told, you follow orders, you listen intently… you put forth the best effort. If everyone here acted like you, we'd be getting a lot more done.

"You've changed as a worker, because of what happened. I want to get you out of that mindset you're in and get you back on track. I need you to understand, that what you did? It could be anyone else in that room, either in the chair or out of the chair. And it will get that bad at times if you're presented with that kind of situation. When push comes to shove, you have a job to do, but don't let that get to you. You're working for a greater purpose, and that's the only thing you can make matter sometimes."

Barney got increasingly confused as the Overseer continued. What in the world was this pep talk he was getting from a puppet of the Combine? Was this actually happening? Is this some kind of mental coping mechanism for whatever he's actually experiencing? It sounded like something his advisor would talk to him about at Black Mesa. It sounded like… something Eli would say.

Whoa, whoa, whoa. Was Barney actually comparing this breathing piece of feces to one of the greatest men alive? It was insane to put these two men on the same level, but you know what? This is something Barney had to hear, and he knew he had to hear it. Barney decided to take everything in, but imagined it as if it were Eli talking to him, comforting him as they walked through Black Mesa East.

"137-V," the Overseer breached through Barney's wandering thoughts. He had pretty much lost track of the conversation; hopefully he didn't look like he had.

"Sir," Barney replied.

"I hope that this conversation has done some good for you. If it has, you'll be back on your A-game in no time. Just kind of let it simmer, alright?" The Overseer paused for a moment, faced briefly crumpled in frustration. "Tell you what, you don't need to participate in interrogations for the rest of the month. You've had enough. …and go ahead and take the rest of the week off and come back Sunday." This just can't get any better, can it? Barney thought. "You're dismissed," he waved with his hand in a go-away manner.

"Thank you, sir." Barney saluted his boss, and left the office, proceeding to exit the Civil Protection headquarters for City 17, and headed home. At least, he headed somewhere he could call home for now.


	4. The Departure

The Beating Quota

Barney definitely had a huge weight taken off of his shoulders, even though it was lifted by the wrong man. He went along his days better, but it nagged him in the back of his head. A Combine overseer, part of the Overwatch, part of the Universal Union, comforted him. Barney was a rebel, ranking high in the Resistance, and was very much loyal to his cause. He got along this far pretending that Eli had talked to him, but it was definitely wearing off.

Six days later, the Monday after he met with the overseer, he was stationed at the processing area at the City 17 train station. Barney stood like a statue, over-watching the traffic coming through. Some were escorted down the hallway behind him for "interrogations." Some were led through the door further to the right leading outside of the terminal to the food-rations dispenser. Few people continued through the fences to the Razor train. Kicking and screaming, some having to be subdued by three Civil Protection units before they were knocked out and slammed into a holding pod. Still, Barney stood stoically, pretending as if everything were alright in his world.

Barney was a few hours into his shift when he saw him.

Bryan Jennings was led by a sole officer to the Razor train. His arms were amputated halfway up his forearms. The lower half of his head was covered in metal and bolts, no doubt holding together what Barney had broken. Bryan's steps were shuffled, his eyes unfocused and glazed over. Either his brain was damaged or he was high off painkillers and medication. Barney didn't know which one was worse.

Bryan and his escort paused between the two fences. Apparently the officer overlooking the razor train in station was trying to pull up an empty pod. In his final moments inside City 17, the man's gaze idly washed over the room. The camera, the harsh white lights, the faded linoleum. Eventually he started to look at the Civil Protection officers, and his eyes rested on Barney.

_Look away,_ Barney urged the man. _Turn and face forward, _he begged in his mind. It didn't happen. He had no idea why but Bryan continued to stare at Barney. Why would he single him out? The uniforms are the same! As far as he knows, this is the first time Bryan has seen Barney stationed here. He could be any other officer in any other place and it wouldn't be a problem, but it was. Bryan's face remained emotionless; his locked jaw started to drool. His stumped arms idly itched against the stiff fabric wrapped on his wounds. Barney couldn't help but think, _you did this. You did this. You did this._

His justification disappeared. His comfort was gone. Barney no longer felt innocent, hands washed of blood. He no longer felt like a tool of the system, he felt like he _was _the system, he _was _the oppressor. And Bryan, despite his sins, was the victim. He may have killed five people but Barney sentenced him to a deathless death, to become a stalker at Nova Prospekt. Bryan should have died in that room. Any attempt to fix that now would put Barney in his place.

And so he stood, shivering in his suit, eyes shut. Barney prayed to a god he hadn't talked to in twenty years, seeking comfort and guidance. He wasn't surprised when there was no response, and when the cripple before him continued to stare him down. Barney was utterly powerless in this situation, and could just pray that an empty pod could be found quickly.

Perhaps his prayer came in a little late. A loud clang drew Bryan's attention back to the razor train; a pod was open and beckoning him to come closer. His escort drew out his baton in case Jennings tried to run. To the surprise of the few officers, Bryan shuffled forward without protest. He set his back against the pod and allowed the escort to shut him in. Barney sighed as Bryan was lifted into the cart, hoping that he'd find the best end he could.

As the cart closed, and the train departed to the old prison, Barney seemed to loosen over-all. He unlocked his knees, unclenched his fists, felt the lump in his throat go down. Barney never wanted to see Bryan Jennings again. He never wanted to have to do anything like this again, but he knew that wasn't a guarantee. He knew he wasn't safe from this experience, and from more like it.

Barney could barely keep himself together until the end of his shift.


End file.
